Page 31 of Chronicles of a Rockin' Mess

“Are you cold?” he asks me.

I nod and close my eyes. I feel his hand on my forehead.

“Jesus, Lark, you’re burning up,” he says. I’m vaguely aware of him talking to someone before I pass out.

Chapter 15

My eyes open and I see a nightstand full of medicine. My head kills and my body feels like I was beaten up. I blink a few times, trying to remember how I got here. I slowly roll over and am shocked when I find a sleeping Lincoln lying next to me. I look down and see that I’m no longer in my dress but instead I’m wearing one of Lincoln’s t-shirts. Again, zero recollection on how that happened. I notice a sports drink on the nightstand. I open it and drink the cool liquid. It feels amazing, but I also feel horrible. I get up and walk into Lincoln’s bathroom. Then I freeze.

Holy fuck! Did I sleep with him? I splash cold water on my face and sit down on the edge of the tub. Slowly, some events start coming back to me. Guy at the club. Lincoln punched him. We left. I was cold, no, I didn’t feel well. Drug store. Doctor at hotel. Ugh, I sweated through my dress, so Lincoln made me take a cold shower and put on this shirt. Oh, thank fuck, we didn’t sleep together. I was sick. Oh god, I was sick, like puke-a-thon sick. That memory comes back to me as I look over at the toilet. And the other shirt on the floor because…ugh…I puked all over the first shirt he gave me. I’m going to PA hell for sure. What was I thinking? I’m about to walk back out to collect some shorts and my dignity before heading back to my room when Lincoln suddenly bursts into the bathroom.

“Knock much?” I ask him.

He runs his hand through his hair. “Christ, Lark, you were sick. I thought…are you OK?”

I nod. “I feel like a truck hit me, but I’ll survive,” I say. “Listen…I’m sorry, about, well, I’m sorry.”

Lincoln crosses the room and sits next to me. He pats my hand. “It’s OK. I was worried about you. I didn’t know any one human could vomit that much in a six-hour period. But the doctor said you just had the stomach virus that’s been going around. He said to watch you, and if you couldn’t keep things down by tonight to bring you to the ER for fluids,” he says.

“Wait. What time is it?”

“It’s almost seven,” he says.

“A.M.?”

He shakes his head.

“You’re telling me that I slept the whole day,” I say in shock because I never sleep that much.

He nods.

“Well, shit,” I say as I put my head in my hands. I feel Lincoln’s hand rubbing my back. Part of me wants to get up and distance myself from him and another part of me desperately wants him to keep doing that. I am saved by the bell or the phone which buzzes from the other room.

“It’s probably Coop making sure I’m not dead,” I say as I stand and walk out of the bathroom. I look down and am surprised to see Hank’s name on the screen.

“Hank?” I answer.

“Hey, sweetie pie,” he says in his gruff voice that melts my heart and embraces my soul.

“Hey,” I reply. I instantly feel my body relax at the use of one of his nicknames for me.

“We’re going to be seeing you at the Lakes Festival,” he says.

I frown trying to think, and then I remember that it’s one of our last concerts for our upcoming tour.

“Really?!” I squeal.

“Yep, just confirmed it. I wanted to see if you’d come sing with us.”

I glance nervously back at Lincoln who’s leaning against the bathroom doorframe. His arms are crossed making his biceps even more pronounced, and I swallow.

“Uh, hold on one sec, OK, Hank?” I say to him as I mute the phone.

“Hank?” Lincoln asks, his brows furrowed.

“Do you mind if I join Magnolia Tear for a few songs when you guys are at the Lakes Festival?” I ask him, not that I need his permission, but it would be pretty bitchy of me to run off and not talk to him and the guys about it first.

“No, not at all,” he says, his voice softening.

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